Deathnotely Hallowmestuck: Friendship is Wizardry
by Brulternia
Summary: A mysterious white arm. A notebook of death. A goblet of fire. A case of Dr Pepper. A pair of orange shoelaces. A bright pink party pony. All of these things seem to be adding up to what is probably going to be Harry's strangest year at Hogwarts.
1. Harry Gets a Message From a Clown

I

DEATHNOTELY HALLOWMESTUCK  
Friendship is Wizardry

Chapter One: Harry Receives an Urgent Letter From a Clown

"Hey," said Harry, nudging Ron as McGonagal called out the first-years' names for Sorting. "What's that?" he pointed a finger out towards the ceiling.

"That would be the raging storm outside, Harry," said Ron.

"No, no," said Harry, pointing more forcefully at something. Something plain white, and somewhat long. It stood out against the dark clouds quite clearly, to him at least.

Ron squinted at the thing. After a few seconds, he shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe something got stuck up there. I'm sure it'll be cleaned up soon."

Harry looked up at the thing doubtfully. After a few seconds, it disappeared.

"That's odd..." he muttered, but his thoughts were interrupted as Dumbledore got up from his seat.

* * *

As Harry squeezed his third bubotuber, he saw it again. It was much closer now - just outside the greenhouse walls. He squinted at it, trying to get a good look at it - However, in his distraction he squeezed the bubotuber a bit too hard, and was rewarded with a facefull of pus.

"The pus!" he exclaimed. "It buuuuuurns!"

"Oh, sh-" said Professor Sprout, stopping herself just in time. "Somebody get him a towel!"

"The paiiiiin," cried Harry. "Oh god, the pain!"

Seamus Finnigan ran to one of the tables in the greenhouse, grabbed a towel, and handed it to Harry. As he appeared to be in too much pain to to even lift his arm, Ron took the towel from him and wiped the pus off his face.

Ron winced as he revealed the pulsing yellow boils all over Harry's face, who was still screaming in agony.

"Remain calm," said Professor Sprout. "You're going to be alright. Ron, would you take him to the infirmary?"

Ron took Harry's arm and began to lead him back to the castle as Professor Sprout turned to face the rest of the class. "Now class, this is what happens when one gets careless with bubotuber pus. Let's try not to let that happen again, shall we?"

* * *

When Harry could finally feel his face again, Madam Pomfrey was looking over him.

"Well, looks like you're all fixed up then," she said. "Off you go!"

Harry lifted his hands to his face, feeling around at it. It was perfectly smooth, as if the warts were never there.

"Thanks you, Madam Pomfrey, he said, before getting up and walking out of the infirmary.

The first thing he saw was the thing, but before he could get a good look at it, Ron grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the Great Hall.

"About time," he said, "I'm starving!"

"And I need to get to the library!" exclaimed Hermione.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Again?! Hermione, it's the first day!"

"Yes, _again_ ," she repeated. "You'll see why eventually."

"So you keep saying," Ron muttered as they arrived at the Great Hall.

"Anyways, you missed it," Hermione told Harry as they made their way to the Gryffindor table. "Hagrid is having us care for blast-ended skrewts."

Harry shivered. "Glad I wasn't there, then."

"Well," said Ron, "At least they're small..."

* * *

Harry saw the thing again in Professor Trelawney's room. As he sat down next to Ron, it appeared near the fireplace.

Harry squinted at it, but then Professor Trelawney appeared right behind him.

"Good day," she said, making him jump.

Trelawney looked down at him tragically. "You are preoccupied, my dear," she said. Harry zoned out for the rest of her spiel, but he was sure it was something sufficiently grim about his impending doom.

"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," she began. However, at that point, Harry jumped from his seat.

"It's an arm!" he exclaimed, pointing at it.

The class turned towards the edge of the fireplace, but within seconds, it was gone. No one had shown any signs of seeing it.

"It... It was right there!" he said. "An arm!"

The class stared at him.

"This must be a sign," said Professor Trelawney, nodding. "Arms appearing at the edge of your vision - it can only mean that you will die very soon. Tell me dear, was it pointing at anything?"

Harry shook his head. "No, no. It was just sort of... Lying there? Except it was floating. And it was pale white-"

"A pale white arm?" asked Professor Trelawney. "White, like bone?"

"Well, yes, but no, it was-"

"Of course," said Trelawney. "It can only be the hand of Death."

Harry sighed. He wasn't sure why he was trying to reason with her. He sat back down and allowed Trelawney to continue spieling.

"You believe me, don't you, Ron?"

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, of course, but... Why would there be a pale white disembodied arm floating in here? Or anywhere?"

Harry sighed. "I have no idea."

* * *

Harry continued to see the white arm throughout the week, often hidden in plain sight, and often in the strangest of places.

As Hermione explained to him and Ron about her project, Spew or something, Harry's eyes drifted towards the window, and he saw it again.

"Guys, the arm is back," he said, pointing.

Sure enough, as soon as their heads turned, it was gone.

Hermione sighed. "I see no arm, Harry," she said, as if they'd gone over this conversation multiple times previously, which of course, they had.

"Yeah bro, there's nothing there," said Ron.

"But it _was_ there," said Harry. "You guys believe me, right?"

"Sure, Harry," lied Hermione.

"Of course," lied Ron.

Harry sighed. There was a tapping at the window. Harry looked up and saw something white. However, this time it wasn't the arm - it was an owl.

"Hedwig!" he exclaimed, running over to open the window.

Hedwig flew in with a hoot, carrying a parcel in her claws. She dropped it in Harry's lap, landing down on his homework.

The parcel had a note attached to it. Harry picked it up, reading the bright purple words.

 _FrOm tHe dEaTh gOd wOrLd, WiTh lOvE  
_ _UsE WiSeLy ;o)_

 _p.s.  
_ _DON'T MOTHERFUCKIN TOUCH IT.  
_ _honk. :o)_

"What a peculiar way of writing," commented Hermione.

"Yeah, who the hell writes like that?" said Ron. "It's hurting my eyes just to look at it!"

"Don't touch it?" asked Harry. "Why would someone send me something they don't want me to touch?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, anyone who writes like that can't be trusted. You should probably just throw it away."

"Not to mention the rude obscenity they spouted at you," noted Hermione.

"And how they claimed it was 'from the death god world'," continued Ron. "Whatever that means, it can't be good."

Harry knew they were right. He knew whatever was in this parcel would be very bad news. He knew that he should throw it into the fireplace and make sure it burned completely. And yet, he was curious. He had to know what it was.

"Ron, hand me my dragon-hide gloves."

"But-"

"Just give them to me."

"Harry," said Hermione. "You can't be serious."

Ron handed him the gloves. Harry tried not to make a big deal out of putting them on.

"I know whatever this is is probably bad news," he said, " But something tells me it could solve all our problems."

With that, he tore the wrappings off of the object and revealed what was inside. A solid black notebook, the title engraved in white bone letters.

 _DEATH NOTE_

"Burn it," said Hermione.

"Why?"

"Just do it," she said. "Don't ask questions."

"Why not?"

Hermione sighed. "That book is very bad news. I know I read about it at some point, but I can't remember where exactly. If the library has it, it'll probably be in the forbidden section..."

Hermione began to pace back and forth, muttering quietly to herself.

At this point, Ron had put on his own gloves, and picked up the book from Harry, opening it carefully.

"The human whose name is written in this book shall die," he read aloud. "Well then."

"This note will not take effect unless the writer has the subject's face in their mind when writing his or her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

"If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the subject's name, it will happen.

"If the cause of death is not specified, the subject will simply die of a heart attack.

"After writing the cause of death, the details of the death should be written in the next six minutes and 40 seconds."

Harry's eyes widened as Ron went on. "Detailed."

"See?" said Hermione. "I told you it was bad news! Don't use it!"

"Of course he wouldn't use it," said Ron. "There's no way he'd kill anyone! Right, Harry?"

Harry hesitated. "Well... There is... Lord Voldemort."

Ron shivered. "You don't think..."

"I think it's worth a try," said Harry, flipping it to the next blank page.

"Harry," said Hermione as Ron reached for a quill. "Don't do it..."

"Come on Hermione," said Ron, "Do you want Him gone, or not?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I just don't think using this notebook is the right way to go about it."

Ron handed Harry the quill, ignoring her.

Harry dipped the quill in his bottle of ink and scribbled down the name.

" _Tom Marvolo Riddle._ "

After a few seconds, Harry felt a sharp pain in his forehead - but it was small, fleeting. He winced.

"Did it work?" asked Ron.

"I'm not sure," replied Harry. "I feel I would've felt something stronger if Voldemort had really died."

Ron shuddered.

"Ok so it didn't work," said Hermione. "It clearly did _something_ , though, and whatever it was, it can't have been good. So just burn it."

"Ok jeez, Hermione," said Ron. "Calm down."

Harry closed up the notebook and tossed it towards the fireplace.

However, just as he did so, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, and a mysterious figure zipped by, catching the book in midair, then zipped back out. A second later, the Fat Lady swung back closed.

"That was... Odd."

"You think we should investigate that?" asked Harry.

"Nah, probably not," said Ron.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, this is the first time I've written anything in a while, but I hope it's still enjoyable even though I'm a bit rusty. If you found this was humorous, or at least feel it has the potential to be humorous, feel free to review, follow, and all that good stuff. So, I guess that's it! I'll try to keep these notes to a minimum from now on, probably.


	2. The Door Keeps Opening

II

DEATHNOTELY HALLOWMESTUCK  
Friendship is Wizardry

Chapter 2: The Door Keeps Opening

The villagers of Little Hangleton no longer called it the Gaunt Shack, nor did they call it anything at all, even though the Gaunt family had lived there some years ago. It stood at the bottom of a hill just outside the village, its one window boarded, ivy spreading over its surface, and overall just in an immense state of disrepair. Though it hadn't looked great even in its day, it now looked like it was just barely standing.

The villagers all agreed the old shack was creepy, even before it was abandoned. The Gaunts had been a very strange family, and the villagers tended to keep away. In fact, a great many of them were relieved as one by one the Gaust mysteriously disappeared, and not once did anybody think to visit that old shack ever again...

Except for a young boy named Tom Marvolo Riddle. Tom was a Gaunt on his mother's side, and one fateful evening he decided to return to his roots and investigate the Gaunt Shack. Presumably the reader knows the rest of this story already, so we will skip over the gritty details.

Nevertheless, a precious family heirloom was stolen on that day - a ring that had once belonged to a certain Marvolo Gaunt. Many years later, the ring managed to find its way back into the Gaunt Shack, and was hidden in a place where Tom Riddle was sure nobody would find it.

Several years after that, exactly forty seconds after Tom Riddle's name was written in a certain notebook, the ring began to shudder violently, before shattering into a million pieces. The force of this miniature explosion caused severe damage to one of the shack's load-bearing planks, causing the entire structure to come tumbling down.

And thus the Gaunt Shack, and Marvolo Gaunt's ring, was no more.

* * *

The weeks passed by very quickly, though not a day would go by when Harry didn't see the arm. He wondered why it was there. Who it belonged to. Why it seemed to be only following him. Why it wouldn't let anyone else see it.

However, he was able to ignore the nagging sensation of being watched, thanks to his excitement for the Triwizard Tournament. As Halloween came ever closer, anticipation grew, until it was almost like the arms weren't even there.

Until, of course, Halloween finally did arrive, and the arms were suddenly everywhere.

"The decorations this year sure are impressive," said Hermione.

"Yeah, look at these arms," said Ron, poking one, which poked him back in retaliation. "So realistic!"

"Guys!" exclaimed Harry. "These are the arms that have been following me all year! Look at them, they're plain white, with no hair - exactly how I described them!"

"Well, the mystery's solved then," said Ron. "You were seeing Halloween decorations!"

"You can't be serious."

Ron shrugged.

"Let's face it, Harry," said Hermione. "What are the odds that you were actually seeing some sort of disembodied arms floating around? It's likely you just saw some stray decorations, and that led you to believe you were seeing them everywhere, even when they weren't really there."

"Not you too, Hermione!"

Hermione shrugged.

Harry sighed as they arrived at the Gryffindor table and sat next to Dean and Seamus.

"So I heard Warrington put his name in the Cup," said Dean.

"Oh, ew," replied Ron.

* * *

The rest of day went fairly well. Harry was more paranoid than ever about the arms, but that paranoia was easily replaced with excitement as the day drew nearer and nearer to a close. Everything was going perfectly great, until...

"Harry Potter," called Dumbledore.

Harry sat still, very aware of everyone's eyes suddenly on him. The whispering started almost immediately.

"Harry Potter?"

"But how? He can't have gotten his name into the Goblet..."

"It's simply impossible!"

Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione staring at him.

"I didn't do it," he said. "I didn't put my name in. You know I didn't."

They merely continued staring.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Harry, up here, if you please."

"Go on," whispered Hermione, giving him a slight push.

Harry stumbled out of his seat and begun walking up to the high table. The whispers were getting louder.

"Of course Harry gets chosen! Because he's just so special."

"It's called the Triwizard Tournament, not the Quadwizard Tournament!"

"He's not really going to compete, is he?"

Harry looked up at the table. It hadn't gotten any closer. Everyone was still staring at him.

And then, the most peculiar thing happened. Something stark white appeared out of thin air - Harry recognized it as the arm, only this time it was holding something. There was a popping noise, but it went unheard over the whispering.

Then, the hand began to pour some sort of liquid into the Goblet of Fire, seemingly dousing the flames. Harry was surprised to see Dumbledore and all of the teachers were doing absolutely nothing about it. They didn't even notice it - they were too busy staring at him.

At last, Harry arrived at the high table.

"Well," said Dumbledore. "Through the door, Harry." He wasn't smiling.

Harry turned towards the doorway and walked along the table, still very much aware of everyone's eyes on him. He walked through the door into a room with a roaring fireplace and a bunch of paintings. As soon as he did, one of the paintings leaned over to whisper into the ear of another.

The other champions turned to face him. They thought he had been sent to pass along a message. He didn't know what to say.

"Well?" asked Fleur. "Vhat iz it?"

Harry merely shook his head dumbfoundedly. The other champions stared at him, waiting for an answer. Fortunately, the awkward silence was eventually broken by Ludo Bagman walking in, holding the Goblet of Fire.

"Extraordinary," he said, taking a drink from the Goblet, "Absolutely delicious!"

Within seconds, Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Snape scrambled in all at once, shutting the door behind them.

"Mr. Bagman, I implore you," said Dumbledore.

"Relax," said Bagman. "It tastes great! Any of you want some?" He held the Goblet out to the champions, who all shook their heads nervously.

"Mr. Bagman, we have no way of knowing whether this substance is poison," exclaimed McGonagall, "Not to mention the fact that the Goblet of Fire is _not_ meant to be drunk from."

"Relax," Bagman said again, taking another drink as everyone else in the room winced. "It's just some sugary soft drink. Not a single drop of poison!"

"And how would you know that?" questioned Snape. "There are fifty million varieties of poison in existence, and about forty-two percent of them are tasteless."

Bagman shrugged. "Well, I'm not dying or breaking out into hideous warts, am I?"

Harry shuddered, remembering the bad experience he'd had on his first day back.

"Let us just ignore zis unimportant drivel," said Madame Maxime, "And return to ze matter at hand."

"I agree," said Professor Karkaroff.

"Very well," said Bagman. "May I introduce the _fourth_ Triwizard champion?"

There was an uproar, but Harry's mind was quite suddenly taken off the conversation, as he noticed two things he recognized very well.

The first was, of course, the arm. It was floating right by the fireplace, but this time, it was different. In its hand it held the second thing - a solid black notebook engraved with white bone letters. The Death Note.

Harry stopped himself from gasping. The hand made a movement, as if to throw the book into the fireplace, but just then...

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

It took him a few seconds to process the question. "No," he said.

"He hesitated," said Snape. "He is obviously lying."

"That's enough, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly, before turning back to Harry. "Did you ask an older student to put it in the Goblet for you?"

"No," said Harry vehemently, looking back towards the fireplace.

The Death Note was gone, but it didn't look like it was in the fireplace. The arm was shaking its fist towards the doorway. Harry turned to face it. It was wide open.

Harry felt something flat and rectangular slide into his pocket. He was about to reach in there, but he held back for fear of touching the Death Note. He looked back at the door. It was closed shut.

"But Karkaroff, it doesn't work that way," Bagman was saying when Harry returned to the conversation. "The Goblet of Fire's just gone out - and been filled with this delicious beverage." With that, he drank down the last of the liquid and handed the cup back to Dumbledore, who glared at him slightly before taking it.

"You really shouldn't be doing that, Bagman," said Mad-Eye, storming into the room and slamming the door behind him. "For all we know, whoever filled up that cup could be the same person who put Harry's name in it. And let's face it - whoever did that probably did it because they were hoping he'd die in the tournament."

As the visiting headmasters began to accuse Moody of excessive paranoia, Harry thought. Could it have been the arms? Were they really hoping to kill him? It had tried to burn the Death Note... Perhaps to keep him from using it to kill Voldemort?

Suddenly, a dark thought crossed his mind. Could the arm belong to Voldemort?

He felt something slide into his empty pocket. He turned towards the doorway. It was still closed. He looked behind him. An arm disappeared just as he turned.

He dug into his pocket, taking out his dragon-hide gloves, and a ballpoint pen. He tried not to make a big deal out of putting the gloves on. He uncapped the pen silently. Reaching into his other pocket, he took out the Death Note.

After making absolutely sure nobody was looking at him, he flipped the notebook open and scribbled in a name.

" _Tom Marvolo Riddle._ "

His scar burned red-hot, but only for a second. He winced.

"It seems to me, however," said Dumbledore after Harry slipped the notebook back into this pocket, "That we have no choice but to accept. Both Harry and Cedric will compete in the tournament."

Harry felt the notebook slip out of his pocket. He turned towards the doorway. It was wide open.


	3. Arm Summoning

III

DEATHNOTELY HALLOWMESTUCK  
Friendship is Wizardry

Chapter 3: Arm Summoning

The reader is surely familiar with the establishment located at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Historically, it has been the living residence of the Black family, and is the home of many family heirlooms. It is entirely undetectable by non-magical humans, and extremely hard to detect by most magical ones. Indeed, it is the perfect hiding place for wizards and artifacts alike.

It just so happens that there was one of both currently hiding in this establishment. The wizard who lived here was the last living member of the Black family, Sirius Black; and the artifact that was hidden was a locket originally worn (and presumably made) by Salazar Slytherin.

The locket has an intense history, but to make a long story short, it was stolen from its original hiding spot by one Regulus Black, who used his dying breaths to ask his house-elf, Kreacher, to bring it back to the Black House and destroy it. As he had been unable to, Kreacher ended up punishing himself greatly, but he sill kept the locket in a safe place, until he could find a way to do so.

It just so happens that, a couple seconds after Tom Riddle's name was written for a second time in a certain notebook, Sirius Black was walking by the glass case that held the locket, when suddenly the locket swung open, revealing a deep brown eye.

"Kreacher!" called Sirius, as the house-elf Apparated next to him. "What the hell is this thing?!"

Kreacher, who of course recognized the locket very well, grabbed Sirius's arm and began pulling him away, his eyes widening. "It's nothing," he said, "You'd better just leave it alone."

Sirius didn't struggle, but he looked back at the locket, sure Kreacher was lying to him. The eye was crying tears of blood.

"What the..."

And then, with no warning whatsoever, the locket and the glass case containing it shattered into a million pieces, sending glass shards and debris flying everywhere. Sirius ducked for cover as Kreacher Apparated out of the way.

Sirius winced as he felt several glass shard cut into his skin, one of them flying across it, leaving a long cut. Fortunately, there was nothing too deep, the wounds could easily be healed.

"Kreacher!" he shouted, the elf appearing next to him again. "What the hell was that?!"

"That," said Kreacher, "Means I have finally fulfilled my master's work."

"Kreacher, _I'm_ your master."

"Yeah but you're a huge bi-"

* * *

Ludo Bagman had had a nasty cough ever since he had drunk from the Goblet of Fire. However, he was convinced it was merely a common cold, and entirely unrelated to the sugary drink that the Goblet had mysteriously filled up with.

Until, of course, one night in which, during a particularly violent coughing fit, he hacked up a small slip of paper. Eyeing it curiously, he wiped the mucus off onto a handkerchief, trying to make out the words.

 _John Egbert._

That was odd. Bagman was certain there was nobody at Hogwarts, Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons named John Egbert. What on earth could this mean? Was the goblet defective? That could explain why Harry's name came out of it.

Ah well, no backing out of it now. If this Egbert kid surfaced, he'd have his own place in the tournament just like all the others. With a shrug, Bagman stuffed the slip of paper in his pocket and went right back to sleep.

When he woke up, his cough had been miraculously relieved.

* * *

As the days went by, Harry had more and more things to worry about than just the arms. First there was Sirius, who of course had told him about the exploding locket. Then there was Ron and his jealousy. And of course, there was the reveal that the First Task would somehow involve dragons.

"Just look at this beauty," Charlie had said, motioning to a sleek white dragon, its burning red eyes glazed over from the tranquilizer. "A brand new species, discovered her myself. She's _extra_ feisty, this one, even worse than the Hungarian Horntail. Feel sorry for the poor champion who has to face her."

"Wow," said Hagrid, gazing at it in wonder. "Such beautiful white scales. D'you think all of her kind are this color?"

"It's hard to say," said Charlie. "Judging by the red eyes, I think she might be albino. But trust me, she is anything but delicate."

The dragon snorted out a large puff of smoke, causing several of the dragon handlers to scream and scatter.

"What're you thinkin of callin her?" asked Hagrid. "Her species, I mean?"

"I'm not sure," answered Charlie. "I feel almost like whatever I come up with would be wrong, you know?"

"Yeah, I see what you mean," Hagrid nodded. "Gotta be something that's fittingly beautiful."

Charlie nodded. "So hey, how's Harry?"

"Fine," said Hagrid, suddenly noticing the large group of dragon eggs that the handlers had gathered.

Harry decided he'd better leave before they started talking about him for an extended period of time.

* * *

Throughout the next few days, Harry tried to figure out a way how to deal with the dragons. After getting some hints from Sirius and Moody, he'd managed to formulate a plan. As such, he and Hermione had spent every free hour they could manage in empty classrooms, trying to master the summoning charm.

"Harry, I really think you've got it!" Hermione said delightfully.

Just then, Harry noticed a pale white arm behind Hermione.

"Hm," he thought out loud. "I wonder..."

"Oh?" asked Hermione. "Wonder what, Harry?"

Harry raised his wand and shouted, " _Accio arm!_ "

Hermione sighed as the arm behind her disappeared. "You're still going on about the arms? Harry, please, concentrate. We're trying to prepare for the first task, remember?"

"Shshshshsh," shushed Harry. "It'll be here any time now..."

There was a long silence.

"Harry, I really don't think-"

Just then, she was cut short by the arm suddenly appearing right in front of them.

"Harry!" she gasped. "Harry, it's the arm!"

"Yes," said Harry.

"It actually exists!" she said just as it disappeared. "It actually disappears like you said!"

"Yeah," said Harry, "I know."

"I'm so sorry for not believing you!"

"It's okay. I think if it went on for this long, I wouldn't believe me either."

"So what now?"

Harry shrugged. "I finally got you to believe me. I'd say that's good enough for now."

* * *

The next day, it was finally time to compete in the First Task. The champions left their classes in the middle of the day, and went into a tent to prepare for the First Task. There, Ludo Bagman explained to them what their task was, and took out a bag, which they would reach into to decide which dragon they would face.

"Ladies first," said Bagman, offering the bag of dragons to Fleur.

Fleur reached in and pulled out a tiny, silvery-blue dragon with long pointed horns - the Swedish Short-Snout. It had a number one around its neck.

Bagman then held out the bag to Krum, who pulled out a red dragon with a fringe of golden horns around its neck - the Chinese Fireball. It had the number two around its neck.

Cedric put his hand in the bag, and pulled out a large black dragon that was more lizard-like than the others - the Hungarian Horntail. It had the number three around its neck.

Harry gulped. He knew what was left. Out came the unnamed dragon - long and sleek and deathly white. Its eyes burned red-hot, like tiny, tiny suns. It had the number four around its neck.

An arm, as white as the dragon, appeared and petted the tiny model dragon. It made a sound like purring. Harry looked up. Nobody had noticed.

Harry was the last one in the tent. He tried not to listen as Cedric tried to get past the Hungarian Horntail. Whatever he was doing, it sounded very painful.

Just then, a pale white arm appeared beside him. It raised a hand, its palm facing him.

"What?" he asked.

The arm stood still, as if waiting for something.

Harry shook his head, unsure what it could possibly want. He remembered his previous theory that the arm could be Voldemort's. Was he planning something for this tournament?

Harry heard the roar of the crowd outside and the whistle signifying that Cedric had caught his egg. It was his turn.

Harry got up and took a deep breath. He stepped outside the tent. It was much more windy than it had been when he had stepped into it earlier.

Bagman's announcements were nigh-unintelligible in the incredible winds. Harry doubted he would've been able to hear them anyways, his heart was pounding so hard.

He walked into the enclosure, the roar of the crowd even louder than the intense winds. The dragon's roar was even louder. It curled around its eggs, breathing a puff of flame so hot, it burned out his eyebrows even from a distance. The dragon looked at him, and he could almost feel the eye burning into him, just as hot as its flames.

"Here's hoping the wind blows in my favor," Harry muttered, raising his wand. " _Accio Firebolt!_ "

For what felt like the longest time, nothing happened. The dragon continued to stare at him. He was sweating heavily, even though the wind was incredibly cold. He could swear his skin was smoking.

And then, just when he was sure it wouldn't show up, his Firebolt came, zooming from the castle, coming to a swift stop in front of him. Smiling, Harry climbed onto it and kicked off into the air.

At last, Harry felt free, as he left all his worries behind on the ground. The dragon's gaze followed him, but he didn't care, at last he was in his element. He flew circles around the dragon's head, taunting it with his movements.

The dragon opened her mouth wide, spewing a stream of flame at him, but the stream was cut short by a very powerful wind blowing it out. Harry continued zipping up and about, the dragon spewing flame, but each time, its fire was blown out by ever more powerful winds.

The winds were starting to get _really_ strong now, and as Harry looked up, a massive funnel cloud was beginning to form above them. Looking down, the professors were casting protective wards around the stands, but Harry and the dragon were still exposed to the elements.

 _What is with this wind?_ Harry wondered. _Why is it so powerful all of a sudden?_

Harry shook his head. He had to get back at the task at hand. He needed to get the dragon to open up its wings without getting sucked into that funnel cloud.

The dragon, officially tired of having its fire constantly blown out, began to swipe at Harry with its claw, slicing a huge gash across his shoulder. Harry wince in pain, but the cut hadn't seemed to be too deep. He flew out of the dragon's reach, taunting it into trying to scratch him again.

Harry flew ever higher, the funnel cloud descending ever lower. He was starting to feel himself get pulled in, struggling to fight the powerful winds. He veered away from the funnel, while continuing to goad the dragon to reach him.

Just when he thought he was a total goner, it worked. With a massive roar that he heard even over these winds, the dragon got up on its hind legs, opening its wings to their full span. As soon as it did, Harry zoomed down toward the eggs beneath it, intent on reaching the golden egg.

As well, as soon as the dragon opened its wings, the wind began to push against them, raising it ever so slowly upwards. The dragon made a sound like hissing, flapping its wings once, which raised it even more so upwards, where the winds were at their strongest.

Letting out a final earsplitting roar, the dragon was pulled into the funnel cloud, sent tumbling and careening into the sky. Harry grabbed hold of the egg, then slid to a stop, looking up at the funnel cloud.

Some distance away, _something_ appeared in the air. But it wasn't an arm this time - it was a boy, wearing a bright blue outfit with a long hood. The boy had square glasses, and hair that was almost as messy as Harry's, flowing in the wind.

But that wasn't what really stood out about him. What stood out about him was his skin. It was stark white - white as bone. As white as the dragon that had tumbled into the funnel cloud. As white as the arms that he was always seeing at the edge of his vision.

The boy turned towards Harry and smiled, waving at him with that oh-so-familiar arm. And then, he turned back around and flew right into the funnel cloud.

After a few seconds, the funnel cloud began to disperse. Just as quickly as it had come, it was gone, leaving behind no trace of the boy or the dragon.

"Amazing! Simply amazing!" Bagman was saying, as Hagrid, Moody, and McGonagall came out to congratulate him. It seemed nobody had noticed the boy, and assumed he had conjured the funnel cloud himself.

Harry wondered. Could the funnel cloud have been conjured? It seemed unlikely. If it was, it would have to have been done by a _very_ powerful magician. And yet... That boy's arm had appeared everywhere at the edge of Harry's vision. If he could do that, he must have been powerful, right?

But there were still so many questions. Who was that boy? Why was he so interested in Harry? Had he put his name in the Goblet of Fire? Had he given him the Death Note?

While he was pondering, someone had rushed him to the first-aid tent, where Madame Pomfrey was taking care of his wound. After she went next door to check on Cedric, Ron and Hermione entered the room.

"Harry," said Ron seriously. "whoever put your name in that goblet... I reckon they were trying to do you in!"

"Caught on, have you?" Harry said coldly. "I'd be really impressed if you started believing me about the arms."

"Actually, I-"

"No, Ron, it's true!" exclaimed Hermione. "I saw it myself, the arms really are there!"

"Yeah, I-"

"Let it rest, Hermione," said Harry. "He's probably thinking we're just bluffing him."

"No, I-"

"Yeah you're right," Hermione sighed.

"I saw the arms too! One of them even handed me some money!"

The two stared at him, mouths agape.

"You took money from the arm?" exclaimed Hermione. "That's dangerous, what if it was fake money?"

"No, it seemed pretty real," said Ron. "Besides, I already used it to order some shoes. They should arrive by Christmas."

"That's even worse, what if it _was_ fake and they find out?" exclaimed Harry. "You could get arrested!"

"I dunno," said Ron. "The arm seemed pretty nice. It even offered me a hi-five!"

Hermione glared at him. Harry shook his head.

Suddenly, the tent's opening fluttered rapidly, as a mysterious figured zoomed in, then back out, leaving behind a pitch-black notebook, a pair of dragon-hide gloves, and a ballpoint pen.

"Harry," said Hermione. "Is that what I think it is?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. He nodded. "The Death Note."

Harry got up, reached down, put on the gloves, then picked the pen and the notebook off the ground, flipping it to the first page.

"Harry," said Hermione again. "Why is Tom Riddle's name in there twice?"

"I wrote it in a second time, after the selection of the champions," Harry explained. "Someone had slipped the notebook into my pocket, and I thought if I wrote his name in again, maybe it would do something."

"Well, did it?" asked Ron. Harry shrugged.

"Harry, I really don't like the look of that notebook," said Hermione anxiously. "You should destroy it."

"Yeah..." Harry muttered. "Yeah, probably. Let me just try one thing, though."

Harry uncapped the pen, put it to the paper, and scribbled out the name.

" _Tom Marvolo Riddle._ "

There was another sharp, burning pain in his forehead, but only for a second. He winced, whimpering just slightly.

"And now the marks from the judges," they suddenly heard Ludo Bagman saying outside.

"Oh, Harry!" exclaimed Ron. "We'd better go see your score! Come on!"

He and Hermione got up and quickly went outside, and Harry followed, slipping the Death Note into his pocket.

Harry vaguely registered the judges giving him exceptionally good marks, except for one. Madame Maxime gave him an eight, Dumbledore and Crouch gave a nine, Bagman a ten, and Karkaroff a measly four.

As Ron expelled his anger at Karkaroff's obvious bias, Harry was distracted by the distinct feeling of something slipping out of his pocket. He reached his still-gloved hands inside, and sure enough, the Death Note was gone. Harry looked around. He didn't see anyone who might've taken it.

"You're tied in first place, Harry! You and Krum!" exclaimed Charlie Weasley, hurrying over to them as they began to make their way back to the castle. "By the way, do you know where that dragon could've gone? You didn't make it disappear, did you? Probably when the funnel cloud dispersed, it flew up into the clouds... But why would she just abandon her eggs?"

Harry looked back to where the dragon's eggs still lay. A boy dressed in bright blue was standing next to them. He placed his hand on one of the eggs, and in a flash of blue light, both the boy and the eggs were gone.

Nobody had noticed.


End file.
